Genesis “Calling All Stations”
We wondered how they could carry on post-Phil. But their story was all about carrying on. First they lost co-founder Anthony Phillips — the “Pete Best” of Prog Rock. Then shape-shifting Prog-king Peter Gabriel. Then guitar savant Steve Hackett. And then, finally, pop icon Phil Collins. By 1996, there were only two men left. Tony on keyboard and Mike on guitar. But, how do you know when it’s time to quit? Why wouldn’t you try to keep going? Sometimes you need tangible proof that it won’t work. And so, Genesis was reborn (again). This time, featuring a younger, grungier, Scottish singer — Ray Wilson of the band Stiltskin. It turned out that “Calling All Stations” was all the proof anyone needed. It was the final Genesis album.
Van Halen “Van Halen III”
Gary Cherone never had a chance. He was the second step dad for a generation who didn’t want another step dad. Back in 1985, we were OK with divorce. It was a sign of the times. We rolled our eyes a bit at Sammy, but we also tolerated him and secretly liked him. We even understood the second divorce. Things happen. People grow up and cut their hair and take up golf. But the almost reunion with Dave and the ensuing PR stunts were not OK. And the ensuing addition of the guy from Extreme was so completely not OK that, by the end of 1996, the Van Nation was up in arms. To this day, “Van Halen III” ranks among the most reviled albums that, I suspect, very few people have actually heard.
Nick Lowe “The Impossible Bird”
Once upon a time, Nick Lowe was the guy. He was New Wave’s beloved everyman — cool, but accessible. You might find him at the pub, you might find him on the Pop charts or you might find him in the studio with Elvis Costello. He married Carlene Carter and dated Lois Lane. To drop his name was to confirm your own hipness. By the early nineties, however, his time had come and gone. He was single, hitless, without a label and at the bottom of a pint glass. Amazingly, and with a little help from Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, he dusted himself off and found a second act, functionally birthing his own genre of music in the process. Part Roots, part Country, part Rockabilly, and part Pop, the former mop-topped hipster became the white-haired songbird for discerning grown ups.
Albert Belle “Snapper”
He had a weird batting stance. He crouched right on top of the plate and then leaned in even further. At times, his head appeared to be firmly in the strike zone. When he got set, he did not budge. And, until the pitch was thrown, he cast a murderous gaze upon the pitcher. There is truly no better adjective for his expression. If somebody glared at me the way that Albert Belle glared at Greg Maddux in the 95 World Series, I would probably call the cops. To suggest that he was the best hitter of his era is defensible, but highly debatable. To claim that he was the angriest or most hateful batter, however, is not up for discussion.
Traveling Wilburys “Traveling Wilburys Vol. 3”
The Traveling Wilburys were a “Supergroup” in name only. In reality, they were just a casual hang among middle-aged friends and admirers, who also happened to be Rock royalty. In 1988, they looked like half of an over forty, softball team from the Hollywood Hills — bad hair, extra paunch and beers after the game. The Wilburys’ debut is appropriately remembered for its easy going harmonies, for a couple of endearing hits and, sadly, for Roy Orbison’s passing. Many years later, it survives as a celebration (and commercialization) of “Past Prime.” History has mostly forgotten, however, that there was a follow-up album, complete with a bad “dad joke” for a title.
Air Supply “The Vanishing Race”
In retrospect, Air Supply seems unfathomable. Graham Russell looked like an overgrown Jeff Daniels with feathered hair. Russell Hitchcock was tiny, with a massive perm. Together, they looked like a Saturday Night Live sketch for a Hallmark ad about roller-skating buddies who loved cats. They were the naked, bawling men of Soft Pop who sang songs for exhausted, dejected, lovelorn ears. But, between 1980 to 1983, they scored eight consecutive top five hits, a feat only matched previously by The Beatles. By 1986, they were gone, off to redesign their Quaalude Rock for middle age and to celebrate their second career in the Philippines.
“Two Princes” (Spin Doctors) vs “Remedy” (The Band)
In 1993, The Spin Doctors gave MTV the winter hat plus hacky sack vibes the network sorely needed. Their unavoidable mega-hit, “Two Princes,” topped the charts and introduced Jam Band culture to the suburbs. Meanwhile, that same year, The Band reformed without frontman Robbie Robertson to make “Jericho.” One of the few originals from that album was “Remedy,” which charted nowhere and is remembered only by the most loyal of devotees. So, here’s the question: What’s better — an unforgettable song by a critically derided band in their prime or an unexceptional one from a beloved artist well past their prime?
Eddie Murray “Steady Eddie”
To this day, it still bums me out. It’s been twenty five years, longer than Eddie’s playing career. I’ve had plenty of time to let things go. But not this. I can’t quit it. At least twice a year, I have dreams where he’s still playing. I see him on TV up at the plate, no batting gloves, adjusting his belt, glaring at the pitcher. They called him “Steady Eddie” because he was exactly that. He wasn’t the most prodigious power hitter or the slickest fielder or fastest runner. But for the first half of his career, he was the most complete hitter in the game. But then, in 1997, at the age of forty-one, he was demoted to the minors before finishing out his great career with a whimper. I am certain that he’s moved past the indignity. But, I have not.
KISS “Psycho Circus”
As success stories go, Kiss’ is perhaps the most unconventional. They’ve had thirty Gold albums, more than any band before or since. A 1977 Gallup poll named them the most popular band in America. Gene Simmons is reportedly one of the twenty wealthiest living musicians. To me, however, they were barely a band. They were comic book ghouls. They were a pinball machine. They were the faces that embellished a demonic laundry bin that my mother one day deposited in my bedroom, without explanation. In 1998, having recently reunited, Kiss made it very clear: Their product was still heavy and basic. And their mission was still profit.
Toto “Mindfields”
Toto was a lab accident. Obviously, not a tragedy, like Chernobyl. More like Bruce Banner getting exposed to Gamma Rays and becoming The Hulk. Back in 1982, they sounded both hulkingly awesome and completely normal. They won Grammys. They sold over ten million records. They were proof that Rock music could be sonically pristine and exceedingly popular; that musicians could look just like regular guys -- or worse -- and still be stars; and that Pop music could be “all encompassing” (“in toto”). However, like many great experiments, over time, the evidence proved less conclusive.
The Moody Blues “Strange Times”
Although they are considered pioneers of both Psychedelic and Progressive Rock, The Moody Blues always sort of defied classification. Their music frequently sounded either too slow or too fast. They were once Classical in Modern times. Then, they were the oldest of the New Wave. In 1999, after an eight year hiatus, they returned to the world of Limp Bizkit and The Backstreet Boys. And, as always, they seemed both timeless and time-less.
Motörhead “1916”
Like their snaggletoothed logo. Motörhead never really changed. Even when Lemmy was forty-five, transplanted to Los Angeles and caught between Hair Metal and Grunge. Even when Philthy Phil looked like a feral, drunk understudy from “Cats.” Even then, they could drop a dozen heat seeking missiles, armed with nuclear Stones and coked up Sabbath.
Eddie Money “Ready Eddie”
If you really understand Long Island, you know that it isn’t Billy Joel country or Lou Reed country or Mariah Carey country or Bernie Madoff country. It’s Eddie Money country. Money was the one hit wonder who, from 1977 to 1988, just couldn’t stop making hits. He was the guy who sang “Two Tickets to Paradise.” He was Bruce Springsteen with two sides of ham and half as much talent. He was the “King of Generic Rock” who, in 1999, finally realized that “generic” also meant “easily replaceable.”
John Prine “Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings”
We all knew he wasn’t going to be the “Next Dylan” (they never are). He wasn’t pretty enough to be Johnny Cougar. And he was too good to simply gut it out on Music Row. But John Prine never really went away. He just sort of stood in place waiting for us to circle back. That happened in 1991 when Petty, Bruce and friends helped celebrate the great comeback of an artist who hadn’t gone missing. Four years, a marriage and two kids later — Prine wondered: where do you go after you’ve just come back?
Graham Parker “Struck by Lightning”
Of that class of 70s Pub Rockers, Graham Parker was once considered the surest of sure things. He was it -- both the next big thing and the through line between Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. But, in time, something amazing happened. Graham Parker did not happen. And by 1991, we found him, without The Rumour, at the end of his major label run, trying to choose between passion and professionalism.
Dire Straits “On Every Street”
Dire Straits started as an anomaly. They were New Wave in design but more Folk and Country in engineering. They had a singer who couldn’t sing but who sounded great, and who also happened to also be a hell of a guitarist. For years, they achieved great success, without the trappings of fame. And all of this was well and good until 1985, when Dire Straits accidentally became the biggest Rock band in the world. Three years later, Mark Knopfler put Dire Straits on the shelf only to then, reluctantly, come back for one final album. It’s unclear whether the reformation was born out of affection or loyalty or inertia. But, whatever it was, Knopfler felt that there was unfinished business.
Jethro Tull “J-Tull Dot Com”
In the 90s, as Ian Anderson’s voice and body began to suffer, one could hear Jethro Tull slowing down. The albums were still ambitious and flute-filled and warmly received by Progressive Rock fans, but they were also less frequent. And, as time passed, Anderson’s voice no longer growled. Rather, it politely narrated the spaces in between his gymnastic melodies. The end of the Renaissance Fair came in 1999, with “J-Tull Dot Com.” a nominally conceptual album slash website advertisement that is just barely better than its title suggests.
Boston “Walk On”
Like the great Patriots teams of the twenty first century, Boston, the band, had a “next man up” ethos. Guitarist, producer and mastermind Tom Scholz had his system. No man, not even lead singer Brad Delp, was irreplaceable. But Scholz platinum selling system was tested in 1994’s “Walk On.” Could they still be great without Delp? Moreover, in a world that passed them over in favor of Alternative Rock and Hip Hop, could Boston even be relevant in 1994? The cover of “Walk On,” on which the famous Boston spaceship crashes into some uninhabited planet, seemed to portend disaster ahead.
Yo La Tengo “I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One”
In early 1997, the internet was barely a thing. It was late Clinton era. There was no war. People had jobs. Nothing felt great but everything was “pretty good.” Music, on the other hand, sucked. Those first few months of that year were an odd moment. We were just months away from a seismic event in music, after which, everything would be different. Bigger. More meta. Radiohead would soon release “OK Computer” and Earth would shake. But, just before then, Yo La Tengo did something impossible. On their eighth LP, in middle age no less, the trio from New Jersey quietly, almost reluctantly, became the best band on the planet.
The Rolling Stones “Voodoo Lounge”
For immediate release. The minutes from the 1993 Board of Directors’ meeting for The Rolling Stones, Inc, previously confidential, have now been made public: In July of 1994, The Rolling Stones, Inc. will release a new Product, entitled, “Voodoo Lounge.” It is the first deal that the parent company has transacted since 1989. The Chairman of the Board, Sir Mick Jagger, and the C.E.O. of the company, Sir Keith Richards, were not in attendance but voted in absentia through counsel. Sir Richard Branson, who has secured exclusive marketing and distribution rights for the Product, did attend. A man who identified himself as the driver of the lawyer for Mr. Charlie Watts also attended, and noted that Mr. Watts demanded that the Corporation not embarrass itself, as it had previously with the “Dirt Work” and “Steel Wheels” products.